Milkshake Magic (with Bonus X-Rated Page 2) (Patreon)

Author's Note:

The critic ias an important role to play in any society. But judging others without mercy often leads to a reckoning of the sweetest kind.

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Chloe adjusted her blouse for the third time, tugging at the collar so the buttons sat just right. Not that she had anything to hide. Her waistline was immaculate, her figure the sort of slim, chic silhouette she bragged about to her readers every week. But she knew first impressions mattered, especially when she was working.

And dates, for Chloe, were always work.

Her column “Modern Love, Modern Rules” was one of the hottest reads in town. Each week she dissected the men she met. Their quirks, their flaws, the mistakes they made trying to impress her. She wasn’t cruel exactly, but honesty could be blunt, and her audience adored her for it. As did her sponsors. 

The poor guy sitting across from her had no idea. He thought this was a real date.

“So, you… write about relationships?” he asked, fiddling with his straw wrapper.

“Mhm,” Chloe hummed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “All about the ups and downs of dating in the modern age. I keep it raw, unfiltered. People really like that.”

She smiled over the rim of her mineral water. She didn’t intend to drink anything else. “I never touch sugar,” she’d told the waitress earlier. “Discipline is everything.”

At a nearby table, Brigit listened. She’d come in for a quiet meal, but the moment she heard the waitress whisper, “That’s Chloe LeClerc! The columnist! Writes about her dates. Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance,” Brigit felt a stab of pity.

The young man leaned forward, trying so hard to keep the conversation alive. Chloe smiled politely, already making mental notes for her next piece. The whole date was theater, and he was just another stooge in her spotlight.

Brigit frowned. Poor fella. He deserved better. And Chloe… Chloe needed the chance to see things in a different light.

When the waitress came by, Brigit leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “I’d like to order that handsome couple a large milkshake. Two straws. On me.”

The girl blinked, then nodded, hurrying off.

Moments later, the tall glass appeared at Chloe’s table, frosty and crowned with whipped cream.

“What’s this?” Chloe asked.

“With compliments,” the waitress said, nodding over at Brigit.

Chloe’s first instinct was to refuse, but when she caught Brigit’s gaze… steady, unblinking…  something in her chest fluttered. Her thoughts fogged. “Slurrrp! Woah! That’s… really something,” said her date. He’d taken a sip and was now sitting upright and somewhat dazed. Chloe thought he looked like one of those hypnotised contestants she’s seen on a TV talent show. She lifted the straw. “Well,” she said with a wry smile, “I suppose I can sample it. For research. But don’t get the wrong idea,” she told him sharply. “I’m a clean-eating girl.”

The first sip was like velvet. Cold, rich, impossibly sweet. She should have hated it. But she blinked, relaxed her shoulders, licked her lips, and leaned in for another taste. Her date smiled, relieved to see her enjoying herself.

And then… pop.

The top button of her blouse shot across the booth. Chloe gasped, looking down to see her breasts swelling, pressing forward and rising under her blouse. Her stomach poured forward, expanding and rounding out with a considerable wobble. It pushed into the table.

“What… what is this?” she stammered. But her hand didn’t set the milkshake down. It pulled it closer. She gulped, cheeks bulging, whipped cream smearing her lips.

Another button popped. Her bra creaked. Beneath the table, her thighs thickened a spread wide, the seam of her skirt splitting with a sharp tear. 

Her date froze, eyes wide, but Chloe couldn’t stop. She was terrified… but she was ravenous too. 

Desperate. 

Each sip made her softer, heavier, and hungrier.

By the time the glass hit the table, Chloe was a very different woman. Her blouse gaped open, breasts straining against the fabric. Her belly pressed over her lap and cut into the table in a deliciously large roll. She was panting, flushed, she had abandoned the straw and cream now dribbled down her second chin.

The milkshake had worked its magic. Not just on Chloe, but her date too. He stared, trembling. “You’re… beautiful,” he whispered.

Chloe blinked at him, stunned. She should have been terrified. Should have ran from the place screaming. But when he reached across the table and brushed the cream from her lip with his thumb, something inside her melted.

Her phone, abandoned on the table, glowed with a draft headline: “The Best Desserts to Share with your Beau”

She wasn’t a dating columnist anymore. She was a blogger of sweet treats and she was about to become a queen of indulgence.

Chloe leaned forward, moaning softly as her date fed her a bite of his sundae, her lips closing greedily around the spoon. She smiled, dazed, more sweet cream dripping down her chins.

“You sure have a big appetite,” he said, wiping the cream up towards her lips. She sighed, and licked the cream from his fingers, “Babe, take me home and I’ll show you how big this appetite really is.”

Chapter X

The cab ride back to his place felt like a dream. Chloe’s blouse had given up entirely, her bra straps digging into shoulders now soft and round, fabric straining to contain breasts that had ballooned in the span of an hour. Her belly pressed against her date’s side, spilling into his lap as she leaned against him, one hand absentmindedly stroking over her newfound curves.

Her phone buzzed in her purse. Sponsors, editors, unread drafts, she ignored them all. For the first time, she wasn’t thinking about content. She was thinking about cravings.

By the time they stumbled into her apartment, Chloe’s lips were on his, desperate and sticky with cream. She moaned into the kiss, her second chin pressing against his face as she shoved him against the door.

“You wanted dessert?” she whispered between kisses. “You’ve got it, baby.”

Her blouse fell open, buttons long gone, and her tits tumbled free, pale and heavy, smearing against his chest as she ground her belly into him. He gasped at the sheer weight of her body, how it pressed him back into the wood, but his hands found her rolls and clutched greedily.

Chloe giggled, low and husky. “Mmm, that’s right. Touch it. All of it. God, I’m so… big…” Her eyes fluttered as she grabbed her own gut, hefting it up before letting it fall with a wet slap against her thighs. The sound made them both groan.

In the kitchen, the glow of the fridge tempted her. “Do you… have anything sweet?” she asked, already waddling toward it. The sway of her ass and belly made the dishes in the cupboards rattle.

He trailed after her, dazed, watching as she bent over to dig through the shelves. Her skirt was shredded beyond repair, the torn fabric clinging to hips that had become impossibly wide. She came back with a carton of ice cream, pried it open with her nails, and shoved a handful past her lips. Cream dribbled down her chin as she moaned around the mouthful.

“God, yes,” she groaned, sinking onto his couch, ice-cream carton tucked between her massive thighs. “Feed me. Feed your fat girl.”

His hands shook as he took the spoon and shoveled another bite into her mouth. She moaned louder this time, rocking her hips against the cushions, her belly quivering with each movement.

“You’re perfect,” he panted. “I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”

Chloe’s eyes half-lidded, her voice thick with lust and cream. “Say it again.”

“You’re perfect.”

She pulled his hand, spoon and all, deep between her lips, sucking the ice cream from his fingers. “God, I love it,” she gasped, her free hand sliding down under her belly to stroke herself. “Love being your fat little dessert queen.”

He dropped the spoon and kissed her, ice cream cold between them. His hands explored every curve. Her overflowing hips, her sagging breasts, the great soft dome of her stomach, each handful made her moan, each jiggle drove her wild.

Her climax hit as she came apart beneath him, moaning into his mouth, body shuddering in waves that shook the couch. The ice cream carton tipped, spilling across her rolls, melting into the heat of her skin. He lapped it up, groaning with her, worshipping every inch of the queen she had become.

When it was over, Chloe lay back, panting, cream-streaked, her hair stuck to her cheeks. She glanced at her phone where it had fallen to the carpet. The screen lit up, waiting for her touch.

Her column draft was gone. A new note blinked open, a headline waiting to be written:

“The Sweet Life: One Woman’s Journey Into Dessert.”

She smiled, sticky lips curling as she pulled him down into her folds.

“Let’s make some more content.”